Turn Turtle
by Tsume Yuki
Summary: Sawada Kamehime starts off her second life with a built-in cheat-code. Well, that's not entirely true; it's more like a sixth sense, something that warns her about certain things, about certain actions. It's strange as hell. Then, during middle school, Byakuran comes barrelling into her life and things get a little more hectic. (Female Tsuna SI)
1. Prologue

**Turn Turtle**

He misses it.

Iemitsu almost can't believe it but, given the succession of bad luck he's had these past few weeks (one Famiglia wiped out completely, another two suddenly declaring war and that's not even covering the three assassins who've made it into Vongola territory)… it doesn't come as a surprise. Twelve and a half hours had passed by, he'd been sure he could afford a moment to step out and sharing the exciting news with the Boss. And he'd missed it, the birth of his precious little princess!

His cute little Turtle, all swaddled up in orange cloth (a gift from the Ninth) with her tiny, chunky little face poking out. She's even got a fine crown of light brown hair, Nana's hair. It's undoubtedly softer than his darling wife's but that's because she's a baby. Iemitsu can think of nothing better in this very moment than sitting by Nana's bedside to coo down at his baby girl.

"Oh, Honey, our baby girl glowed!" Nana croons, ruddy cheeks lifting into the smile that blesses his day, the one that waters his crops and cares for his livestock. The one that makes the world spin and the sun rise and the ocean wave.

"I bet she did, Nana." She's been cleared up by the nurses now though, all smooth skin with a healthy little glow to it. He and Nana have made the cutest kid! He'll have to keep a few people posted when she becomes a teenager; ain't no one getting anywhere near his baby girl! It's a damn good thing he's well practiced with making undesirables disappear.

"She did, Honey, she did." Nana murmurs, voice lowering and trailing off as the good drugs kick in, as sleep drags her under the replenish her energy.

Iemitsu watches his darling wife sleep with a beaming smile on his face, one that softens as he returns his attention to his child, his daughter. She's fast asleep too, thin eyelids covering her baby-blues. He wonders if they'll remain that way, or darken to match Nana's. He couldn't care either way.

.

If Iemitsu had paid a little less attention to his darling daughter and a little more attention to what his wife was saying, then he might have checked back on the hospital's CCTV, where he would have found that Nana hadn't been hallucinating. That, freshly birthed, Sawada Kamehime had glowed not just with the lighting reflecting off her freshly birthed self, but with a healthy orange flame that wasn't really seen outside of certain criminal organisations.

Alas, he carried on cooing over his sleeping infant and all was quiet.

* * *

Among the people of Namimori, there is an awful lot of gossip; there's not much else to do in a town this sleepy with this many colourful characters. There's the sushi chef with his mysterious past, the exuberate would-be-boxer who was due to leave town in the next year on a well-earned sporting scholarship. Two key figures stand out more than the others.

The first is Hibari; locals warn visitors to the town of this one, warn people to stay clear of the middle school and to be on their best behaviour. The few that do not heed these warnings soon find out why, via an up close and personal meeting with the Demon of Namimori Middle. Needless to say, these meetings are often fruitful when it comes to providing evidence towards why one sticks to the rules in Namimori (and supplementing the hospital with more patients). Yes, Hibari has been a well-recognised figurehead of the town since his take-down of the local Yakuza aged ten, a feat that catapulted him into town-wide stardom.

On the other hand, there's Sawada. Not the head of the family, who is very rarely in town due to his travel-heavy job. Nor is it the Sawada housewife, who smiles sweet enough to make a criminal repent and who cooks so well that it'd drive a saint to sin.

No, the Sawada recognised by the town is the daughter, one Sawada Kamehime. She'd always been a bit of a strange child, what with those frightfully unnerving orange eyes and unnaturally mature way of speaking. Her rise to fame had been quite the opposite of Hibari's, a slow, modest trudge to recognition. Helping people when they need it, when they don't, when they weren't even aware of it. And her strange way of knowing if something was going to happen before it does… well, the inhabitants of Namimori no longer question it, just accept it.

If Sawada Kamehime gives you advice, you follow it.

Don't buy carrots today? Oh, there's been a rotten shipment.

Take an extra fifteen minutes at the gym? Meet the love of your life.

Don't go for a walk under the Sakura trees? Oh, the Demon Prefect is having a nap there.

Yes, though they appear to be polar opposites, the one thing Sawada and Hibari share is a level of fame.

It makes her ridiculously easy to find.

.

Rocking back on his heels, Byakuran lets a low, jolly tune escape from between his lips as a whistle, smiling at the curious old ladies who stare at him. It's the hair; most of these people have black or brown or the occasional ginger. White seems to be a new one for them but still, staring? Rude.

Shoving a hand into his pocket, he pulls out a fistful of marshmallows, shovelling them into his mouth a moment later. He's outside the old people's home; admittedly, not his usual jaunt but he's hardly here for the washed-up senior citizens. No, it's the helpful Sky he's waiting on. After all, what is one to do when they receive memories of their alternate self's attempted world conquest, then their subsequent defeat, but meet the cause of said defeat? Even if she is female in this reality (and things are running a bit behind, given the lack of World-Famous Hitmen in the town?) that doesn't matter. She's female in nearly half of them; just because it was a boy that took down super Byakuran, doesn't mean that the girl various will be any less.

Or, so he hopes. Life is boring right now. It's why he hopped on a jet out of Italy and landed over here in Japan. He has no idea how long it'll take until things begin to kick off, but he's looking forwards to it.

Chowing down on another handful of wonderous sugar, Byakuran lifts his gaze from his phone and grins when he finds the very person he's been waiting on.

"Kamehime-chan!" He bounces the little stretch of walkway between public space and the care-home's front door, stopping a half foot away from the very startled middle-schooler. Awe, she's just as cute in person as what he's seen in the pictures. The eyes aren't unnerving (not to any harden Mafioso anyway) and she's still got some puppy fat left on her cheeks.

"I- er, hello? Can I help you?"

"So welcoming~ It's no wonder they call you Kogane-Kame!" Golden Turtle; it's a cute play on her given name and her golden behaviour. In this community, Sawada Kamehime can do no wrong, not with how hard she's worked to be seen in such a good light. That there's Hibari running riot around the town as the other extreme will only have helped her.

"Have we met?" The wide eyes, the soft smile and gentle tilt of her head is all a cute little act to get information out of him. Oh, she might have been playing with civilians, but he's Mafia trained so she'll have to try just a little bit harder than that!

"In other universes, we've always found each other~" Byakuran purrs, shoving more marshmallows into his mouth before holding one out to her, "why should this one be any different?"

"I think that is the weirdest thing anyone has ever said to me," Kamehime muses, accepting his treat and popping it between her lips. She's got some kind of chapstick on, the sheen makes it obvious and the slight cracks in the skin beneath give reason enough for the substance. "But cool, let's roll with it. My name is Sawada Kamehime, a First Year at Namimori Middle. Please take care of me." She bows, hands held before her. It's cute.

"Nice to meet 'cha, Hime-chan. Name's Gesso Byakuran. Now, let me tell you about the Mafia."

* * *

**Yes, I am rewriting this. Yes, there will clearly be changes (a key-one being that the SI will not have read KHR before being reborn). Will I finish it? Who knows. I'm sorry I'm such an unreliable author, but we live with what we've got, I guess. **

**Tsume**  
**xxx**


	2. Daily Life I

**Turn Turtle**

Sawada Kamehime starts off her second life with a built-in cheatcode. Well, that's not entirely true; it's more like a sixth sense, something that pushes or pulls or warns her about certain things, about certain actions. It's strange as hell and she spends the first three years of this new life grappling with it.

She knows when the neighbour's dog has cancer and they get to the vet early enough to catch it.

She knows when the meat that Mama was going to cook with has gone off early, saving them three days of food poisoning.

She knows to have her uniform perfect on her first day of school; she manages to avoid catching Hibari-san's attention that way.

The point is, Kamehime often knows things she doesn't, helpful things. Not just for herself, but for others too. So… she kind of builds a reputation out of it. Goes around, helping elderly folks cross the road when a motorcyclist is going just a bit too fast and a bit too reckless. Guides home the cute girl in her class to avoid the bullies looking for her brother. Helps Mama choose her lottery numbers for the week (only once though, and she never goes for all the ones that make her stomach buzz with warmth; that'd attract too much attention and she doesn't want to end up in some government's basement. No siree).

So yes, she has this cheatcode/superpower and she makes sure not to abuse it (aside from that one time she really wanted a plushie lion-cub at the festival and the game was rigged but that's neither here nor there).

Kamehime takes care to listen to her instincts because they've not led her wrong yet. They're what carry her to Yamamoto Takeshi when he needs her on the roof that one day, they're what tell her to leave a boxing pamphlet on Sasagawa-sempai's desk in pre-school. They're what tell her not to let the old man her father brought home know about her instincts.

So, Sawada Kamehime goes through her life with her inbuilt cheatcode and a smile on her face. She arrives at middle school with a reputation (Kogane-Kame, the Golden Turtle) and a slew of people she can talk to during recess and lunch breaks. She goes to the supermarket and catches items knocked off of the shelves before they can hit the ground, spends summer by the local pool and pulls out the little kids that get in over their heads. She goes to the care-home and spends time with the senior citizens, listening to their tales, happily delivering letters they want posting but can't get to the post office on their old bones.

That's where she meets Byakuran. Byakuran who moves in next door (she hadn't even been aware the house was up for sale and that's the first time her instincts insist she doesn't want to dig too deeply here) and becomes her best friend. He's home-schooled, even though she sees no tutor enter or leave his home. Though, if she's being honest, he's smarter than she is. And Kamehime is on her second life now.

Byakuran is also a mob boss from Italy who's insistent that she'll become one herself at some point in the future. Kamehime doesn't know how much stock to put in his prediction, but she knows he's right about her father's job, about her bloodline (her gut warm with the thought of it, something so very right settling into her bones). He tells her all sorts of stories, about his ability to look across different dimensions and what she's like in everyone of those. About Dame-Tsunas and Dame-Kames and Kogane-Tsunas and every other thing in between.

It's cool. She definitely appreciates when he starts training her in hand to hand combat. What with the way Hibari breathes down everybody's necks, it'll be nice to know she can at least fend him off long enough to flee.

If Byakuran's to be believed and this Mafia tutor does show up, some day she'll be able to actually fight the Demon Prefect and win.

One can dream, can't they?

.

"I'm back, Mama!" Kamehime calls as she bounces into the house, kicking off her shoes by the door and shoving her feet into her house-slippers. Byakuran's not a step behind her, pale feet disappearing into equally pale slippers, hands undoubtedly sticky with sugar. How he stays so slim eating so many marshmallows… well, neither she nor her intuition (as Byakuran calls it) knows.

"Welcome back, Kame-chan! Is Bya-kun with you?"

"I am, Mama; it's a day ending in 'y', so it's stay for dinner day~"

Mama giggles, pulling her hands out of the oven-mitts as she turns to greet them. Sawada Nana has aged well; Kamehime can only hope she takes after the maternal side of the family. It's been four years since she last saw her father in person; she cannot say with certainty he's aged as well as her mama.

"You're always welcome here, Bya-kun. I do worry about you, all alone in that big house."

"It's a good thing you keep me fed then, Mama~"

Mama giggles again, swatting at Byakuran's arm with her oven-mitts before she returns to whatever delicious smelling thing she's cooking up. Kamehime sniffs at the air but she's hopeless at cooking and has zero chance of guessing what's going to be on her plate by scent alone.

'_Baked Tonkatsu_' her cheatcode helpfully informs her.

"We'll be upstairs- ah, unless you want some company, Mama?"

.

Mama sends them on their way with a negative, waving them off as she turns her attention back to the stove. Kamehime makes for the stairs, pushing past her aching muscles to clamber up to her room, Byakuran following at an equally sedated pace. Given that they have spent the last hour beating the tar out of each other, it's kind of a given that they're both knackered. Kamehime's shoulder in particular is screaming at her; throwing Byakuran isn't particularly difficult after a few years of practice. Doing it seventeen times in the space of a half hour is a different matter entirely.

"My muscles are sore, nya~" Byakuran moans, dropping face first into the comforts of her bed, as if he's done it a thousand times before. He says something else but his words are swallowed by the pillow.

Kamehime doesn't hesitate to drop down onto the mattress beside him, stretching her arms above her head and resting her cheek on the pillow. Because she's not a simpleton who wants to suffocate. Had she the energy, she might have brushed some of Byakuran's hair back to get a look at his face. As things stand-

"I promised I'd help Katsumi-san clean out her guttering after dinner," Kamehime recalls, putting forth the effort to roll onto her back and stare up at the ceiling. It sounds like a terrible post-dinner job but Katsumi-san has three under four children to keep track of and a husband the works out of town (no, it doesn't remind her of Mama and Pops... okay, maybe a little bit). When she's helping, Kamehime knows she'll feel better for it, but the thought of getting up right now-

"Mama's dinner first. Good deeds later, Kogane-Kame."

"Okay, okay."

If they spend the twenty minutes until dinner's ready just lying, existing on the bed, then who's to know?

.

Once dinner is devoured, Byakuran leaves her for what she's beginning to suspect is not actually high-school work but instead university work. Kamehime pulls on her dirty overalls, a thin jumper because it's spring but it's also approaching night time, and then she makes her way to Katsumi-san's house. She greets three others along the way, one of which is Yamamoto-san (the senior) and agrees to a quick waitressing shift in order to cover for the usual worker's bereavement leave. All with the promise of Yamamoto-san's best sushi takeout at the end of the workday in addition to the normal pay. It gives Mama a day off cooking, so who is Kamehime to complain?

"Are you sure you'll be alright up there an your own?" Katsumi-san asks, all the while she bounces her youngest on her hip, cooing softly between her questions.

Kamehime adjusts her safety harness, twirling the thick rope she's threaded through the belt at her waist and has every intention of attaching to the roof, before she answers, "you're not the first person I've done this job for, Katsumi-san. Trust me, I'll be done in a jiffy!"

She angles the ladder (_two more stones back_, the cheatcode whispers) and then she's off, gloved hands grasping at the rungs as she ascends. She can feel Katsumi-san's worried gaze boring into her back but her quasi-superpower hasn't stopped her yet, so clearly this isn't going to be a bad idea. Besides, the view of Namimori from the rooftops, even second-story building rooftops, is a magnificent one indeed.

It's obvious why Hibari-san prefers lounging on the school roof.

Double checking that the gloves over her hands aren't ripped in any way, Kamehime pulls one of the black binbags from the roll in her pocket, opens it up, and gets to work.

.

It's getting dark now and her knees are beginning to feel a little bruised, but the gutters are clean. Sitting back on her haunches, Kamehime peels the gloves from her hands, pushing them into the near full binbag before she seals it shut. A quick check over the side to make sure there are no children underfoot and she pushes it off, smiling at the satisfying thump it makes on the ground. Yeah, it might have taken a while, but she does feel quite proud of herself for accomplishing another job.

She stays low on the roof as her instincts insist, just in time to watch a would-be Yakuza go fleeing down the street Katsumi-san's property resides upon. More importantly, she stays low enough that Hibari doesn't catch sight of her, too focused on chasing after his latest prey. Undoubtedly, he'd have tried collaring her too for some kind of rule-breaking and then she'd be doing her best to flee back home. It's a miracle he hasn't cornered Byakuran yet for a fight. She could see that going… poorly.

Clambering down the ladder, Kamehime hits the mechanism that collapses them down, leaning its smaller form against the side of the house. She accepts the basket of goodies from Katsumi-san in exchange for a job well-done, smiling and making quick small-talk. Just long enough to make sure Hibari is gone from the general vicinity. Base on the screams in the distance, it's as safe as can be.

"Don't forget to remind your mother that it's book club at my house this week."

"Will do, Katsumi-san. Have a nice night!" Waving, more to the woman's toddler than the woman herself, Kamehime shoves her hands into her pockets and saunters down the front-path. Her shoulders still ache, but it's more in a 'I worked out and I worked hard' kind of way. A nice burn. A pleasant one.

.

Adjusting the ponytail so that it sits high upon the back of her head, Kamehime stops at the crossroads, twisting to look left with a hard frown. That's the way home, it's the quickest route and the one she always takes.

But her gut is telling her to go right.

Chewing on her lip, Kamehime submits to the cheatcode, turning right and heading down the street. Her boots clip against the pavement, neither heavy or light. There aren't many people out and about at night (being out is almost like handing the DC an invitation to come and investigate you at best; a way of blipping on Hibari's radar at worst). The streetlamps bath the pavement and spots of the road in warm, golden light, the residue water from this morning's rainfall all but gone from the gutters. Kamehime's eyes flicker across the street, up and down, looking for whatever it is she's being pulled towards.

The cheatcode (_intuition_, a voice remarkably Byakuran-like corrects) insists she take a left, then a right, then another right until she's walking down a back-street, lined with the fences of back gardens. There's a small figure sitting on the top of one of the fences and Kamehime comes to a stop beside him, staring. It's… a baby. Not even someone with dwarfism, the proportions all indicate baby. Her cheatcode doesn't argue with her conclusion either, so baby it is. Sharply dressed baby too. And… and he's got luggage, if the big suitcase sitting at the foot of the fence is any indication (if it's even his). How he's got on the fence is a mystery, but Kamehime certainly cannot walk away now that she's spotted him.

"Hi, Little Guy. Are you lost?" she keeps her voice soft, taking a tentative step closer, well aware that the kid may lose his balance at any moment, may fall back into the garden behind. Even if it's into a bed of roses, he'll still break his neck (babies are breakable, aren't they?).

Razor sharp eyes lock onto her and Kamehime stills, her innards chilling. It's the first time she's every felt 'threat' accompanied by 'don't move'. Her eyes say baby, but her gut says danger. Huh. That's… not ideal.

"Sawada Kamehime?"

"I, er, yeah? That's me." And that is a very adorable lisp. Even as she thinks it, Kamehime knows to never, ever mention it. The pit of dread in the bottom of her stomach insists to do so would be to invite pain into her life and she's far from stupid.

"Ciaossu. I am Reborn, the World's Greatest H

Hitman and Mafia Home Tutor. I've been contracted by your father to turn you into the Vongola Decima."

.

Kamehime joins Reborn on the fence. It's probably not a good idea and she doubts the owner of the house will appreciate it, but given that she's built up a fair amount of goodwill, she hopes they'll forgive her. Hands folded in her lap, Kamehime click the back of one heel against her other foot, tilting her head to a side to look at Reborn. There's clearly something unnatural about the baby; there's an adult in that body, that much she can conclude from how he speaks, how he explains the history of her family and what has happened to ensure she's the last viable heir for the Vongola Famiglia. It's clear given his title as the World's Greatest Hitman; she highly doubts that such a denomination is handed out on a whim.

"You've built a good reputation for yourself, as any boss should be able to," Reborn concludes with a nod of his head, eyes flickering over to assess her, shadowed beneath the brim of his hat. "We'll work on your presence next, after awakening your flames, that is."

"I- my flames?"

"Yes. All Vongola Bosses have Sky Flames, an attribute that allows them to lead easily and gather Guardians. We will begin on that after flame training, though gathering people for your inner circle within the Famiglia begins now." Reborn nods his head, a decisive action he takes as if to affirm his words. Kamehime rather gets the impression that they're finished here and it is with tentative movements that she slides off the fence. A good thing too, as Reborn leaps at her and, in a panic, she catches him rather like one would catch a rugby ball.

There's a moment of silence. Then, slowly and very much aware that Reborn is now twirling a small green gun in his tiny fingers, Kamehime adjusts her grip until he's resting against her hip. You know, as a normal baby would be. She very deliberately doesn't support his neck, almost positive she'll get clocked around the head if she even attempts it. Picking up the suitcase with her free hand, Kamehime turns her attention back to the hitman currently on her hip, one of his tiny hands clenched in the fabric of her jumper. "Has Pops set you up with accommodations for your stay, Hitman-san?"

"Just Reborn. And your house is very big, Slow-Sawada."

"Slow-Sawa- oh. Turtle puns. Like I've not heard those before."

The 'World's Greatest Hitman' beams at her, all rosy-cheeks and innocent expression and she doesn't believe it for a second. Then, unbelievable, he conks out. Completely asleep, face nuzzling into her shoulder and tiny hands (she cannot get over how small they are, not matter how likely it is they've been covered in blood multiple times before) clutching at her jumper. It's all an act, it has to be, in order to get her to lower her guard. But the cheatcode isn't flinching (other than to tell her it's an act) so it's not like she'll be unsafe. And isn't this what Byakuran's been drilling her for?

.

When Kamehime gets home, she shuffles Reborn off to bed in the spare room, putting down his suitcase (and she has so many questions about why it's so heavy but she assumes it's best not the ask, for her continued mental-wellbeing) in the same room. A quick word with Mama that Pops has hired her a home tutor to begin her training for the family business generated many tears, in addition to a celebratory hot chocolate.

That's how Kamehime finds herself tucked up in bed, recalling the quick flashcards Reborn had shown her of the three sons of the Ninth, and then the state they'd been found in. Is it terrifying? Yes. But she's already concluded this world isn't her own; one only needs to look to Hibari to understand that. He physically shouldn't be capable of what he does; she shouldn't have an inbuilt cheatcode that gets her full marks on multiple choice tests, or tells her when to help old man Takami down the stairs to avoid a serious injury, or worse.

So, she's Sawada Kamehime, daughter of Sawada Iemitsu and Sawada Nana, known in town as Kogane-Kame. She's the final heir to an ancient family and her destiny is predetermined.

"Holy shit. It's like I've been reborn the main character of a TV show or something."

* * *

**Right, so, here we go I guess. For those confused, I've rewritten the first bit of this. Hence the word-count drop.**

**Tsume**  
**xxx**


	3. Daily Life II

**Turn Turtle**

"Thank you again, Sawada-chan."

"It's no problem, Yamamoto-san!"

Yamamoto Takeshi ducks down behind the countertop, heart racing and damn his dad! He always does this and he always gives him absolutely no warning whatsoever!

Counting to three, the teenager slowly peers over the top of the bar, unsurprised to see Sawada Kamehime brushing down an apron in her 'borrowed' (she's her often enough that it's pretty much hers now) uniform. Her hair is pulled back in the same high ponytail as usual, the same bangs framing her face and there's the same, determined, friendly smile on her face.

.

'_Let's just step away from the railings, Yamamoto-kun._'

_Feet don't move, orange meets brown, one face set friendly and open. _

_The other is a mask failing apart. _

_Rain falls from the grey skies, the rusted railing creaks and breaks. _

_A hand clasps his own, reeling him back before he can take the fall._

.

His dad has no idea, has never been told of what almost happened, what Takeshi almost did. There's only one other person who knows what happened up on that roof and she's never breathed word of it to anyone, not as far as he can tell anyway. He's not on any watch list, he's not been pulled aside by the guidance councillor; nothing. Only heavy orange eyes watching him for those first few months of Middle School, as if checking that he won't make the same mistake again (he won't he's got so much more to live for now).

He toned down the baseball, took up the sword (much to his Dad's surprise but he'd needed a break from the sport that'd pushed him so far, pushed him to the edge) and he'd tried to do better in school. Key word being tried; it doesn't come easy to him and he's definitely going to be relying on a sporting scholarship for university, if he even decides to go.

Plucking up his books, Takeshi retreats to the back booth, the one nobody ever uses because it's near the wastebin of fishy residue; it's unofficially his study spot so Dad knows not to send customers there unless the place is chock-a-blocked, which it never is unless it's a holiday or the summer holidays. He spreads his maths books out, selects his paper and pen, opens to the correct page… and does nothing. He never does when his Dad pulls this shit and gets Sawada in for a shift.

In retrospect, it's his own fault for having a hopeless puppy crush that he just hasn't been able to shift, even if it has been three years since that day (the anniversary passed by last week actually given that they're now into May). And since Dad can read him like an open book, he's been asking Sawada to cover the occasional shift whenever he has a reasonable excuse.

It's stupid; even though she made such a big impact on him, that's kind of what Sawada does. She goes around helping people; catching a baseball before it can knock out a little kid, putting up an umbrella before a car can splash Sasagawa-chan and her friends, even saving a child whose inflatable had begun drifting out to sea before Eiji Kuroda and his little gang had even noticed. They been fired as lifeguards after that which, given just how 'well' they'd been doing their jobs, was fair game.

No, Sawada does stuff like it all the time, it's why everyone's slapped her with the nickname 'Kogane-Kame'. A sight better than Hibari's 'Demon Prefect' but they're both apt descriptions. Man, he still has bruises from when he'd turned up late three days ago. Heh, Hibari's awesome but Takeshi really does not like being on the wrong side of him.

Sawada's greeting some of the customers now, happily chatting away as she leads them to a table and Takeshi does his best not to look for too long. He really does need to get his maths homework done, otherwise Watanabe-sensei will be cross. Not as bad as Nezu-sensei was in Middle School, but still. Watanabe-sensei believes in him and Takeshi really doesn't want to let her down. Especially as he only just scraped into High School as it is.

He forcibly turns his attention back to his books and then nearly has a heart attack and the kid sitting there. No, not even a kid. A baby? Baby toddler? He's dressed up in a suit, smiling at him though his eyes are a dark void. Creepy.

"Hey kid; have you gotten lost? Who'd you come here with?" He asks, already looking around for a panicked young mother or father.

"I'm waiting for Kamehime to finish her shift. It'd be rude to take up time she's already promised to someone else." He's got a lisp and it's adorable. He's also very well spoken and has something to do with Sawada. Huh. Well, he supposes any relation of Kamehime would be exceptional like her.

"Right. You're really smart, kiddo. I guess I shouldn't be surprised you hang out with Sawada-chan." Takeshi laughs, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his head. He now has even more of a reason to focus in on his work; the last thing he needs is his puppy-crush getting back to Sawada before he's ready to confess. He's still building up the courage for it… after three years. Ah, man, he's such a loser in the love department, isn't he?

And High School maths is so hard.

Takeshi pauses at that thought, hand atop his head, having stopped the frustrated hair ruffle half-way through as he eyes the kid.

"I don't suppose you know how to do algebra, do you?"

* * *

Kamehime finishes her shift at three O'clock that afternoon when the next worker troops in. She hands her apron back to Yamamoto-san, brushing down the uniform top and making a soft promise to return it washed and pressed tomorrow, no matter how much the restaurant owner states he's more than happy to do it himself once she returns the top.

Her cheatcode (intuition, Reborn had amended this morning, looking dearly like he wished to kick her in the head) pulls her attention to the back booth in time to spot a little green lizard run across the top. Of course, Reborn had said he'd be following her through the day, to get a 'feel for her character'. When she'd asked him why he hadn't already done that, he'd just smiled at her, all ruddy cheeks and adorable half-pout. So, he'd definitely done it already and wanted to see how she'd react knowing she was being followed.

The more the interact, the more certain she becomes that Reborn is indeed an adult, somehow magically trapped inside a baby's body. Hey, it's not utterly unrealistic; he keeps going on about this fabled fire that she can (and will, because when Reborn says it, it sounds like a threat to not do otherwise) summon up. So yeah; there' magic to babyfiy people, she'll eventually become a pyromaniac or spontaneously combust (or both) and now her Hitman tutor is interacting with one of the classmates.

"Reborn-san? I'm all finished."

Reborn glances up at her from beneath his hat, black eyes blinking and she really does want to know why they don't reflect light. At all. It's so creepy. Probably very apt for his job, but creepy.

"Good."

Kamehime adjusts her arms as Reborn leaps into them, settling him on her hip yet again. He'd complained about it on the way to Yamamoto's sushi restaurant, but she wasn't going to lug him around in both arms like a sack of flour where there was the perfectly acceptable substitute of her hip.

"Ah. Hello Yamamoto-san. I hope that Reborn hasn't been bothering you." Despite cutting back on the hours he puts into training, the baseball team's star player stares up at her for a moment before breaking into a cheery grin.

"Hi Sawada-chan. The kid's actually really smart; it's almost like I can understand algebra when he explains it. And thanks for helping Dad out today; otherwise he'd have dragged me into it and I always end up breaking a bowl or two." He laughs and its warm and pure and so much better than what he was presenting back in Middle School. Kamehime's innards warm and melt, her smile softening and she, utterly unthinkingly, runs her fingers through the back of Reborn's hair. He tenses under her touch but doesn't retaliate. Probably too many witnesses for his liking.

"It's no problem, Yamamoto-san. I'm glad to see you're doing better." Better in maths, better in life itself. From the way her fellow student pauses, he catches her undertone, the smile not quite sliding off but certainly tilting slightly.

"Ah- you can just call me Yamamoto, Sawada-chan. Or even Takeshi. You've kinda seen me at my worst after all." He laughs again but this one isn't the same warm thing he offered her earlier. Maybe that's why she puts her free hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly. The cheatcode all but purrs with the action.

"I'll keep that in mind, Takeshi-kun. Have a nice day."

.

Blessedly, Reborn waits until they're out on the street before he begins with his probing questions.

"I couldn't find any information as to why Yamamoto is so obsessed with you; care to elaborate, Slow-Sawada?"

She's not going to be able to stop him from using that nickname, is she? Huffing, Kamehime adjusts her hold on the takeout Yamamoto-san had given her after the talk with Takeshi, other arm aborting the move to double check Reborn's balance. He's an adult, had told her himself this very morning. He's perfectly capable of balancing on her shoulders like that. His arms resting on her head is less than ideal, but she'll manage.

"It's from Middle School. Best I can tell, Takeshi-kun was depressed and I just knew I had to get the roof one day. I managed to stop him through going over the edge, but it was close. And I wouldn't say obsessed, he just… watches every so often."

Reborn hums, low and please in the pit of his throat and Kamehime does her best not the shiver at the ominous sound.

"Yamamoto is training in swordsmanship and he owes you a debt; he'd make a fine addition to the Family."

"A fine addition to- Reborn! I'm not going to call saving something from throwing themselves of a roof a debt!" Reaching up, Kamehime flicks the little nuisance on her shoulders, then howls when a closed fist far stronger than it should be hammers down on top of her skull.

"Now, I'm pretty sure the Vongola will want an heir who's not brain-dead," Kamehime whimpers, rubbing at her aching noggin.

"For a civilian, you're not doing too badly; one for the Family already and a solid alliance. Though why the Gesso heir is here, I would very much like to know."

"… You tried interrogating Byakuran and he gave you the dimension travel bullshit spiral, didn't he?" Kamehime murmurs, amused. Her words are followed by a second blow from the tiny fist, but it's not as forceful as the first. More a remedial tap than anything else. "I hate to break it to you but, as far as I can tell, he's being completely truthful."

"Brave words, Slow-Sawada. Let's see if his 'training' is anything like mine."

.

Byakuran's training is nothing like Reborn's. It's six O'clock in the afternoon and Kamehime is wiped out. Laid on the ground, unable to move and there's not one muscle in her body that doesn't hurt. Even her tongue hurts; she hadn't been aware that such a thing was possible but here she is, aching and in pain.

Groaning, Kamehime presses her face into the earth, inhaling the smoky scents that still linger, even after Reborn had stopped shooting five minutes ago.

"Not too bad. You have a long way to go before being Boss-ready, Slow-Sawada, but I've worked with less." Dear lord, she feels sorry for whatever poor sap Reborn has deemed worse than a civilian raised heir. Sucks to be them.

"Everything hurts," Kamehime whines, curling in on herself. It's only after a minute that she finally dregs up the willpower to roll over, looking longingly up at the sky. If she could fly, she could escape Reborn right now. Plus, she wouldn't have to walk to do it. Not walking right now sounds brilliant.

Something cold presses against her forehead.

She glances up, heart stuttering at the barrel pressing against her forehead and Reborn's grim expression.

"Time to kickstart your Dying Will, Kamehime."

* * *

The gunshot rings through the clearing and Reborn steps back and away. It's been an interesting three days. His latest student has a well-earned reputation as a Golden Turtle (funny how turtles have shown up in both this job and the last, though this turtle is much more amiable than the previous one) and shows promise. The Gesso heir is a bit of a worry but, given his expertise with the uncomfortable mysteries of the Mafia, Reborn's almost inclined to accept the brat's declaration of being able to see other universes. Almost.

He's still gonna check with the other Arcobaleno to see if they've heard anything like it.

Regardless, the potential is here, there's one maybe-Guardian circling already and a friendship with the Gesso heir in place; it's more than Dino had to work with when they began.

Sky Flames explode out of Kamehime, potent and wild, whipping around her form before they settle into a single flame atop her head.

"Apologise to Takeshi-kun with my Dying Will!" And she's off, almost quicker than Reborn can stuff her into a dress. With Dino, it'd bene acceptable to allow him to run around in his underwear and make a fool of himself. There are different rules for women, both in the Mafia and Japan, so Reborn has had the thin dress ready and waiting for this moment. He spends a moment to glance at the pile of abandoned sportswear before picking it up, making off after his student.

It's a bit of an odd Dying Will but, given they'd seen the boy today, something related to her potential Rain Guardian isn't entirely unexpected. Especially given the little titbits that Kamehime has fed him in regards to their history.

.

The wispy trail of Sky Flames leads him to a baseball pitch on the school grounds, near empty now, given the dying sun. Near empty for that's exactly where Kamehime's target is. He could have kept up with her pace, but this town is safe. There's no Yakuza because Fon's relative lurks in the shadows as if he's auditioning for a particularly violent horror movie, and that's not counting the Vongola's hidden protection of the place.

He arrives in time to hear the tailend of Kamehime's apology, the flame still glistening on her head and Yamamoto's eyes are locked on it. Rain Guardian? Check.

"-and ever since I've been avoiding you because I wasn't quite sure how to react without bringing up bad memories." Just like that, the little flame on her head splutters out and Kamehime's consciousness follows a moment later. Reborn darts forwards, catching her body before she can hit the ground as best he can. Which, for an Arcobaleno, is better than most.

Gently laying Kamehime's head on the floor, Reborn directs his gaze to Yamamoto, cocking his head to a side as he considers the boy. Yes, a natural born assassin; he'll be a great asset to Kamehime's family.

.

He tells the boy about the Mafia as he carries Kamehime (and thus, Reborn) home. Though the kid makes out that it's all a game they're playing, he can see the sliver of doubt in his eyes, the slight puckering of his lips. Regardless, Reborn can feel the tell-tale signs of a developing Guardian bond; once the kid activates his flames, it'll be there soon enough. Which is excellent. One down, five to go.

"We're home, Mama. Kamehime had a fainting spell but Yamamoto was kind enough to carry her back." Instantly, Iemitsu's wife (she's too good for him, it's honestly mindboggling) comes bustling in, shaking her head and wistfully recalling her own fainting spells in the face of handsome men. Here, Yamamoto blushes, tanned cheeks tinting red and Reborn hides his smirk. Yes, perfect Guardian material.

Still, he has only had three days to observe the people in Kamehime's life and it's not like he'd been paying Yamamoto his undivided attention. So, he follows the kid up, mentally checking his tally. Yamamoto for a Rain Guardian, that brat Shamal's been on about can try out for Storm because there sure as hell isn't a strong enough one here, and there's that fantastic Cloud drifting about town. Now there's a Cloud; he should bring the Lackey and make him take notes. Which leaves him a Lightning, Sun and a Mist. The former… well, if push comes to shove, Gesso has Lightning secondaries. But they haven't had to take on a Sky as a Guardian since the Fourth's time. It'll already rock the boat with a woman at the head, any more would be chaos…

Gesso it is.

Humming to himself, Reborn hustles Yamamoto off before he can spend any more time staring lovingly at his student (devotion is good, but he needs to make sure it's directed correctly). Once the potential Rain is gone, he sits himself down on the foot of Kamehime's bed and activates Leon-phone. There's a shallow three rings before his future lackey picks up. Or rather, Kamehime's future lackey.

"Who the fuck is this! How the fuck did you get this number, it's supposed to be fucking blocked you dip-"

Well, if there was any uncertainty about his stormy nature, then this just seals the deal. He'll have to thank Shamal somehow. Maybe invite him to Mafia Land during bikini season. He'll have to pay for himself of course, but Reborn won't tell him that until he arrives.

"Is this Gokudera Hayato?" There silence on the other end of the phone as the words process, and then there's another riot of angry threats.

"Wha- How the fuck do you know that! Who the fuck is this!"

"This is Reborn."

"…oh."

* * *

**Ayo; school starts tomorrow so please don't expect any more quick updates.**

**Tsume**  
**xxx**


	4. Daily Life III

**Turn Turtle  
**

"So, do you want to share exactly what it is you're scheming up?"

Byakuran slowly peels one eyelid back, staring at the World's Greatest Hitman whose eyes bore back into him with equal intensity. Nah, Byakuran's lying. There's far more intensity in the Arcobaleno's eyes than his own. The point still stands though.

Kamehime hums, running one distracted hand through his hair and Byakuran couldn't suppress the smirk if his life depended on it. Given present company, it very well might do. Oh well.

"I don't know what you mean, Sun Arcobaleno." Reborn twitches. Not a second later, there's four bullet holes in the floor, one between each of his spread fingers.

"Reborn, please, not in the house. I could do without smelling of gunpowder." The little bastard doesn't apologise, but Byakuran rather thinks the bastard's never apologised to anybody in his life. Learning such a thing certainly wouldn't surprise him.

Besides, if he apologises now he'll be showing weakness and, given the little cold war they've got going on, that'd be like waving a white flag. Not that Kamehime's aware of how they're sniping, how they're taking pot-shots at each other. She's unnaturally perceptive, but she's not yet practiced enough in applying it to realise how mafia men handle things 'round these parts. He'll get in his fun for as long as he can.

"Are you still completing home tutoring?" Kamehime asks, fingers still stroking back and forth in his hair, nails scraping ever so delightfully against his scalp. Byakuran leans into the touch, almost purring at the sensation. This is exactly what he'd been looking for when he'd sought Kamehime's company; a person to just exist with. A fellow sky to bask in the sensation of existence with.

"I've got a little bit left to finish up on," Byakuran muses, ignoring the way Reborn eyes him something suspicious. Oh, he knows Byakuran's done with High School (done with university) and Byakuran knows that he knows, just as Reborn knows that he knows that he knows. Yeah, all of that. It's a game though and Byakuran loves playing games.

They stare at one another, daring one to speak, to continue that train of thought. Then Kamehime's shifting out from under his head, her own lying across his thigh in the traditional swapping of strokes they've become accustomed to in the years they've known each other.

That, that Reborn doesn't like. Something he showcases. Violently.

.

* * *

.

It's the most blatantly civilian town he's seen in a long while.

Digging a cigarette out from the packet, Hayato slips it between his lips, fingers searching for the battered lighter that's sure to be resting in the depths of one pocket somewhere. It's quaint, that much is for sure. The next boss of the Vongola lives here? Hardly what he'd be expecting but, to the tourists, Italy is a lovely country with a rich history and only whispers of a secret drug-ring mafia. They've not even scratched the surface of what the real Mafia is, haven't even hinted at the bosses and the Skies and the Elements that become Guardians.

His hands shake with nerves, like a crack-head looking for their next fix, thumb running back and forth of the lighter's spinner. The fluid within sloshes up against the side of the container and Hayato meets the offended glare of a middle-aged mother and her two bratty teenaged sons with a fierce scowl of his own. Typical Japanese looks, dark hair, soft features. And here he is, all silver hair and sharp angles. So clearly and outsider and utterly unafraid to impose his presence on them.

Why does a tiny town like Namimori have its own airport?

No, not a question he needs and answer to. He's got a gig here, got a chance to impress Reborn (Reborn, The World's Greatest Hitman Reborn, of all people!) and he cannot afford to fuck it up. Even if he ends up some lowly grunt, a lowly Vongola grunt is better than a freelancer without a sponsor. It's been a tough few years.

"Smoking Bomb?"

He snaps to attention at the low voice, twisting to find the non-descript mafia personal standing by a non-descript taxi. Well, they'd be non-descript in Italy. Here in Japan (quiet, small-town Japan at that), they're as loud as can be.

"Yeah, that's me."

.

He had sat in the back seat, getting utterly engrossed in the file he's been given. There's not much information to work off of; Reborn-sama assessing him (or so he hopes). The heir lives mid-way between the centre and outskirts of town, goes by Sawada (isn't there someone big in the Vongola with the surname Sawada?) and has a reputation as the 'Golden Turtle'. Odd nickname, but he can appreciate someone who's working for what they've got. Charmed life or not, at least they've got a good idea on how to be a boss.

He ends up striding down the street on the way to the local high school (to get enrolled, even if he's only going to be here for the test, by god, is he going to do this to the best of his abilities), file open and scribbling away. Little notes in the margin, thoughts and plans.

And that's when some fucker bumps into him.

Hayato's backpack is jostled off his shoulder by the other, a tall brute of a teenager with a ridiculous pompadour that's a few decades out of date and a red armband like he's part of some shitty high school wannabe-gang. Worse, his phone (brand new and freshly updated with all his hacking software) is knocked form his hands. He can't make a quick swipe for it without dropping the file Reborn had left in the taxi for him and Hayato is a professional; he won't risk confidential information (for all that there's so little of it) getting free for others to look at. So, he resigns himself to a phoneless existence for the next couple of days until he can fleece the cash needed from the local criminals.

(Speaking of which, he's not seen much indication of there being any local criminals which is… weird. Are they just unusually good at hiding their presence? It's never this clean unless they're literally on the street where the police station is located and, even then, it's a fifty-fifty chance)

"Ah, almost!"

And there's a girl holding his phone, rising from the half-crouch she'd caught it in. Japanese features, even if the colouring is a bit off. Light brown hair in a high ponytail, big (unnatural) orange eyes and a bright smile.

"Here you go."

Hayato snatches the phone back, eyeing the girl. No one should be that bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in a morning. Not unless they were in the early days of doing drugs, when you can appreciate the high but before you get dependant. She's in a school uniform, the one he's heading to actually, the skirt short but not startlingly so, the bow tied perfectly and tucked neatly beneath the colour of her shirt. The uniform is too spot on, actually. The kind of crisp perfection you'd only expect to see in a movie or a nice-on-the-surface-wait-till-you-dig-deeper-dictatorship.

(Someday, he'll look back on that particular thought and laugh himself sick).

"Man, good save, Kamehime! You ever thought about trying out for any sports?" And if the girl wasn't enough, the clearly lovesick, overgrown puppy that's practically hanging off her every word is enough to push Hayato into turning on heel and never looking back. How blatantly obvious can you get? Fuck, how desperate can you get? True, he's tall, for a full-blood Japanese kid. Might even be pushing six foot.

Hayato's not jealous. He's part Italian, he'll grow into his height, he's got time.

"It's not really my calling, Takeshi-kun. As I've been aggressively reminded these past few days, I have a bigger destiny." Wow. How conceited can you get?

"Right, right, right. Mah, we should really get a move on. If Namikori reports in before we get to school. Hibari will be breathing down our necks in no time." …What?

Whatever this 'Hibari' character is, it's enough to get the two moving. 'Kamehime' straightens, adjusting the straps of her bag and brushing out the non-existent creases in her uniform, while 'Takeshi' ruffles his hair, utterly unbothered by the sloppy state of his own attire. The girl offers him a short bow, still smiling all the while and looking far too (warm,home,happy,welcoming) ditzy the entire time. "Good luck finding your way around Namimori, Stranger-san!"

The girl grabs for the boy's hand, who all but lights up (again, lovestruck, idiotic puppy).

And then a short form appears from the rucksack of the girl, flicking her reprimanding on the ear.

Hayato knows that hat, that gun, those signature curly sideburns. Not the mention the whole baby-appearance thing.

"Get going, Slow-Sawada. You don't want to be late for school."

S-Sawada?!

.

* * *

.

She says goodbye to Takeshi at the entrance to the gym, releasing her hold on his hand at the last possibly second. It's been exactly two days since they started hanging out for real (two days since her Dying-Will prompted apology and she still hasn't quite forgiven Reborn for that sudden lack of autonomy, even if it had been her inner most desires driving her forwards within all of that.

Running her hands though her hair, Kamehime bends forwards and gathers the mass back up into its usual ponytail, smoothing down her gym shirt once she straightens herself out.

"So, you and Yamamoto-kun?" Hana and Kyoko slides along the bench to sit next to her, both already changed into their gym uniforms and Kyoko's smiling ever so cutely, the delight in her eyes indicating she hadn't even considered gossiping until Hana had opened her mouth. Throwing one foot up onto the bench, Kamehime swiftly ties her laces, pulling up the thigh-high sock she'd left rolled at the ankle. She repeats this process with the other leg before answering the girls.

"We're just friends, Hana-chan. I've done enough shifts at his dad's restaurant to be one speaking terms, then we hung out the other day and realised we actually jell quite well together."

She's relatively certain they 'jell' so well because of Mafia Magic flames, the terminology and lore that Reborn is ruthlessly beating into her head indicates they'll be a good match. Takeshi does inspire the same kind of lazy, chill attitude as a rainy afternoon does. She'll have to test it further with a movie night one day. It's the same easy comfort she gets with Byakuran, just not up to his level yet. Because Byakuran is her best friend and has been for a couple of years now. That kind of amiability will be hard to replicate. But, if Reborn is to be believed, she'll achieve that with at least five others. She's looking forward to it.

You can never have too many good friends, after all.

"But do you want something more?" Hana persists, snatching up a scrunchie and whipping her own hair back into a low ponytail. By the way she grimaces at the action, Kamehime guesses she'll soon be getting a haircut; the cheatcode (_intuition_; a sinister hiss that sounds remarkably like her home tutor) pokes at her innards in agreement.

"Oooh! Kamehime and Takeshi-kun would be really cute together!" Kyoko beams and Kamehime blinks away the sparkles that come with the action, forcing herself to focus. She snatches up her hoodie, just in case coach decides they're going for another long run across the school grounds. That's always the worst gym lesson. Not for the exercise, but for the fact Hibari stands at his office's window and watches. As if daring anyone to put a toe out of line.

"Maybe so. Takeshi-kun is very tall, on the sports' team, and he's good looking," she agrees, linking her arm with Kyoko's, smiling as Hana gets dragged into the action on the other side of the school's idol. "But I will get to know him before I even entertain the idea of a relationship. Don't want enough Mochida, do we?"

At that, Hana groans and Kyoko hides her face in Kamehime's shoulder, the heat of her blush evident even between two layers of fabric.

"I can't thank you enough for getting him to take the hint, Kame-chan."

"It was no problem, Kyoko-chan. Helping people is what I'm known for, after all."

.

They're not outside running. No, coach have decided that volleyball is the way to go today. Kamehime has very little problems with this; sport has always been a subject she's liked, though it wasn't until Byakuran charged into her life and started his whole 'let's do hand to hand combat and parkour' that she'd gotten truly good at it.

"Sawada! Captain One. Tomora, Captain Two."

Kamehime makes her selection, nudged by that inbuilt cheatcode (and, somehow, she still gets a warning tingle down her spine, as if alerting her to the fact Reborn will know she's referred to it as something other than intuition within the safety of her own mind) into picking girls that will help build the team, those that need a confidence boost, and one she gets the feeling will end up getting injured on the other team (an elbow to the temple; not a deliberate injury but something that can be avoided now; holy hell, is this thing getting stronger with such a precise prediction?).

While playing, she does her best to brush off the sensation of eyes on her. It's not uncommon whenever the boys and girls are in the sports hall at the same time; they're teenagers, they're going to spend some time looking at each other. It's how they're wired. She may have memories of another life, but Kamehime is still a child and she's hardly exempt from sneaking a quick glance. Especially during the warmer months were shirts get slick with sweat or come off altogether.

But, this is different.

There's Reborn's eyes, though she can't quite pinpoint where he's barricaded himself away; probably in the rafters, given he's a hitman and would like a bird's-eye view, though she can't discount the tallest bleachers. Yet, it's not just his eyes.

As they break for a drink, Kamehime's eyes find the new boy, the one Namikori had crashed into, whose phone he'd nearly destroyed in his rush to meet the Demon Prefect's demands.

He's not fully Japanese, or, Kamehime doesn't think so (the cheatcode purrs in agreement). There's a sharpness to his features that's undeniably attractive; coupled with the punk silver and fierce scowl he's got going on… well, it's no wonder half the girls have given his slouching form a few curious glances.

"The foreigner's watching you," Hana whispers in her ear, digging a non-too-subtle elbow into the tender space between ribs and hipbone. Kamehime moves with the action, twisting to fire a smooth smile off at the other girl.

"Jealous?" She gives her hips a little shake, pressing the palm of one hand to her cheek and fluttering her eyelashes at the other girl. Hana snorts. It'd have been more effective if she hadn't been halfway through a mouthful of water and nearly upchucked it all back into her bottle.

"Hardly. That attitude is such a turn off. The boy's coach has already been giving him stick for not having his kit."

"Coach should give him a break. It's his first day, how was he supposed to know when gym is?"

.

An hour later, Kamehime… well, she wouldn't say that she regrets trying to look on the bright side with their new punk, but she's certainly rethinking her opinion. The boy had joined both her and Hana in the advanced maths class, kicking at her chair as he trudged by to his own seat. It had jolted her something fierce and she'd gritted her teeth, turning her attention to the board and forcing it to remain there.  
They've not had a new kid for a couple of months (not since the second to last month of middle school, actually) and, normally, they're snapped up into a clique relatively quickly. By which point they learn of her… well, status as a local legend, she guesses. She's Hibari's counterpart in the eyes of the locals. The helpful one. The only people who don't know this are outsiders-

Fuck.

Of course he's Mafia. And, given how thoroughly both herself and Byakuran have been hidden here, it's clear that her little hometown is under some kind of protection. Which means...

Kamehime's eyes drift across the stretch of windows taking up the eastern wall, zeroing in on a particular tree with unnerving accuracy. The slightly raised eyebrows that reside above the vantablack irises implies she shouldn't have been able to pinpoint him so easily but it appears supreme irritation magnified the cheat code.  
Those light-less eyes narrow at her and Kamehime just knows the other has sensed her incorrect branding of the 'famed Vongola intuition stop calling it a cheat code Slow-Sawada'. Her hand goes in the air.

"Sensei?"

The whole class stops, twisting to look at her as one being. Well, those that she can see. She assumes those that sit behind her do the same thing, though she cannot say with any certainty without looking around.

"Sawada-chan?"

"May I please be excused?" She offers to reason as to why; doesn't have to. She's Kogane-Kame, an honour student with a prestige record. She's the only person that Hibari has never pulled aside, though she has admittedly had supernatural help with that; this punk foreigner must have some kind of godly intervention on his side too, seeing as he'd not been dragged by the earring to their Demon Prefect. That or Reborn (the apex predator) is shielding him from the local predator's notice. It would explain why Hibari had skipped out on school to go chase down criminals in the next town over; it'd been hot gossip in the changing room once gym had finished and he hadn't been summoned by the punk blatantly out of uniform.

"Of course, Sawada-chan. Stop by later to get the work."

"Will do. Thank you, Sensei." She scoops you her books, shoulders straight as she walks to the door. The burning on the back of her neck doesn't lessen in the slightest as she crosses the threshold.

.

From there, it's a short walk to Reborn's tree. Kamehime tilts her head back as she sits beneath shade the green leaves casts, bag resting beside her thigh and a low sigh escaping her lips. They've been in each other's company for a handful of days, yet she already knows demanding answers from Reborn will get her nothing other than a sound trashing. The grass tickles at the underside of her thighs, skirt just a little bit too short to really offer any protection but that's why she has thigh-highs, even if they are a pain to roll up before she shows her feet in them.

"Slow-Sawada. A good boss doesn't skip lessons."

"A good boss knows when to prioritise information gathering over inane learning they can conduct at home, right?" Eyes sliding open, Kamehime finds Reborn sitting beside her. There'd been no sound to indicate he'd climbed down or jumped out of the tree. As if he'd just appeared. She wouldn't put it past him to have some form of teleportation technique. Is such a thing possible with their flames? She'd love to know the answer to that one.

"Good answer."

"Thank you. Would it be a good question to ask why a Mafioso is currently within our school?"  
Reborn hums, drawing the wide brim of his hat down until it rests low over his head, plunging his features into the shadows. Ridiculously, part of her wishes to reach out and place her hand up his shoulder, though such an action would undoubtedly lead to a swift kick in the head. It's the same reason she'd snatched up Takeshi's hand on the walk to school today. Undoubtedly something flame-related then, given Reborn had informed her of Takeshi's potential, and she'd be a fool to assume the World's Greatest Hitman didn't have these mythical flames.

"Consider it a test, Kamehime." She jolts. That's, that's the first time he's used her actual name since meeting. Huh. She must have impressed him somehow.  
She can only hope it'll last.

"Will this test interrupt my after-school schedule? I have plans to do the shopping for Mama."

"Mmmm, we cannot have Mama inconvenienced. I'll ensure it doesn't drag on too long." Ensure what-

Kamehime stills, dragging her eyes from Reborn to land on the newcomer that stands on the edge of the schoolyard, a mere foot away from joining them on the field.

"You're Sawada, aren't you?" Ah. A test. What kind, she doesn't know. Perhaps a way to judge her character? Or a method to judge her skills in a fight with an unknown opponent? Or how she deals with unwanted pressure in what should be a safe environment? Kamehime's not sure. All she can do is adopt her usual method of practice. Trying her best.

"That would be me. Sawada Kamehime. It's nice to meet you."

* * *

**Who knows what story I will update next? Honestly though, this is about 2 hours of rapid work that came out of nowhere. Enjoy?**

**Tsume**  
**xxx**


	5. Daily Life IV

**Turn Turtle  
**

The foreigner looks at her with those pretty _pretty_ eyes of his as Kamehime straightens out her blazer and skirt. She might be about to become even more entangled in the Mafia, but she'll be damned if she ned sup on Hibari's radar. He has an unfortunate habit of popping up when you least expect (or want) it. She has managed four solid years without attracting his attention and she'd like to keep it that way, thank you very much. He's clearly Mafia and very clearly has hostile intentions. Right then.

Running a finger along the hem of her socks, she watches the other follow the motion with his eyes, cheeks pinking a mere moment later. Of course, Mafia. Any hand movement could be assumed as a gesture for a weapon of sorts. It's such a poor thought but this is the world she will be living in now. How irritatingly drastic these people are. It's so very much at odds with how she has run her life so far but Kamehime has grown up with memories of another life in her mind; she's nothing if not adaptable.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, er," Kamehime trails off, head tilting to a side and down slightly, so she can glance up through lashes that are tinted just a few shades lighter than the majority of her classmates. The boy's nose scrunches up with the motion (misogynist or sexist, could be due to parental upbringing or the Mafia lifestyle, given what Reborn has told her of the latter), eyebrows dropping low in a scowl that looks long practiced. A shame. He's got such a pretty face.

"Tch, Gokudera."

"Gokudera-san." Probably best to go with 'san' as opposed to the 'kun' she wants to use. He's prickly and an out-of-towner. No conditioning by the town to recognise her as one of the good ones, but what information he has, Kamehime is unsure. "May I ask why it is you are here?"

"Gokudera is here to challenge you to a fight," Reborn cuts in from beside her. Kamehime glances down at him, suddenly very much aware that she is in a short skirt and significantly taller than the contracted killer. He never once looks in her direction though. It would appear he not only dresses like a gentleman, for all that he isn't gentle with his training. "If he wins, then he will secure a position in the Vongola Family. The more damage he deals, the higher the position."

Ah.

That's a carrot on a stick if there ever was one. She really doesn't fancy fighting someone raised in the Mafia; Reborn is contracted to turn her into the next boss, so she assumes significant damage with life-changing effects will be stopped.

Assumes being the key word in that sentence.

"He's known as the Smoking Bomb in Italy!" the hitman chirps this part, all cute smiles, as if he hasn't called this teenager around the world in order to face her in a fight.

"I see. Reborn, as the Vongola heir, what is the highest position I can offer?"

At that, Gokudera snaps to attention, eyes narrowing and nostrils flaring. Does he think she is trying to weasel her way out of a fight? Perhaps. But you can always end a confrontation in violence. That cannot be said for discussion, so it's always best to start with that. As far as Kamehime is concerned, anyway.

"Not that it matters if you ignore my counter-offer and still go on the offense. As far as I see it, you will become Vongola one way or the other. No matter which option you pick," she pauses, if only for the dramatic effect that she's sure Reborn will appreciate, "I will remain the Vongola Heir. One day, I will become the boss. So, you have to ask yourself, Gokudera-san. Would you rather ascend to a position quickly and build animosity between us, or wait, prove your worth, and have an easier life in the future?"

Even a turtle can snap when threatened. Quite frankly, it should be an easy decision to make. Short term work for a long-term reward, or create bad blood between them with ominous repercussions looming in the future. She is the future boss of the Vongola which means, eventually, the power between them will rest with her. That's as much as she needs to know.

It also appears to be as much as Gokudera needs to know, given the tightening of his face, the clenched fists by pockets that look suspiciously full (of what, she's not sure, but the cheatcode isn't hinting towards a gun).

Reborn's tiny hand pinches at the skin of her thigh and Kamehime hisses in pain, swatting at him.

"You just referred to the Vongola intuition as a cheat-code again, didn't you, Slow-Sawada?"

"Old habits die hard, Reborn-sensei."

"I'll kill them swift and quick; I am the World's Greatest Hitman." Yes, she's well aware, he keeps reminding her at least once a day. As if her memory is that poor.

Turning back to Gokudera, Kamehime offers her best smile, the one that has won over grouchy grannies and local tough-guys alike. It doesn't appear to affect Mafioso. Not yet anyway.

"Tch, I'll work for you, Jūdaime." It is said with such reluctance that Kamehime frowns, striding closer to Gokudera until he can place the tips of her fingers beneath his chin. She tips his head up, even though there would be no problem with meeting her eyes if he was looking down. She is rather short, unfortunately.

"Chin up please, Gokudera-kun. You act as if working for a woman is a death sentence." She smiles, taking her hand away and pretending like she didn't notice how he full out flinched at the unexpected contact. She can feel Reborn's weighty eyes sitting on her shoulders, analysing. Assessing. She's either passed or she hasn't; as far as her morals lay, she's doing just fine. Violence second, talking first. "At the moment, I only have one rule. Don't disrespect my Mama. As a Mafioso, I trust you'll be able to find my home just fine, so I expect you for dinner tonight at six o'clock sharp, okay, Gokudera-kun?"

.

Reborn, darling little gentleman that he is, waits until they're aware from the motionless Gokudera before he begins his assessment.

"The town knows you as Kogane-Kame, but that was hardly golden behaviour, Kamehime."

"I have no idea what you mean, Reborn-sensei. The town has given me that title because I'm good to them; I've always been very good at taking care of things that are mine."

Perhaps that's the one thing she and Hibari have in common; they both look after the things they consider their own. This town, Namimori, they are her people. Her hometown. If she can make their lives easier, can make their days a little brighter, then she'll work towards that goal. Hibari… well, he considers Namimori High his own (and Namimori Middle, she cannot forget that he visits his old stomping grounds and neither can the current inhabitants of the middle school). They just have… different ways of looking after their things.

"I'm more than happy to help my people. I'm good to my people. But, until the end there, Gokudera-kun wasn't one of my people. He was a threat to me and I have no assurances he wouldn't not go after Takeshi-kun or Bya-kun." Not that the latter would have been a win for Gokudera. Byakuran is on another level altogether and that's without him using these 'Mafia flames'.

Reborn mutters something about 'cloudy skies' under his breath but, when she looks up, Kamehime sees nothing but open blue space. Perhaps a forecast for tomorrow?

"Regardless, do I pass with flying colours?"

Reborn leaps up, landing neatly on her shoulder and Kamehime adjusts her posture to account for him, the other checking her bow. Just because Hibari has been sighted outside of town, doesn't mean he won't be summoned by too large a concentrate of 'poorly uniformed herbivores'.

"It was not bad. There is a lot of room for improvement however, Slow-Sawada."

"Isn't there always?"

* * *

"Hime-chan!"

He descends on his cute little Sky, sweeping her up and off her feet in one smooth motion. Both the hitman and the Storm tense up, but for two very different reasons. Awe, Gokudera's here! What an eventful day it must have been, even with a lack of explosives.

"Bya-kun," Kamehime all but sighs, eagerly returning his hug and he can feel the Lightning portion of his flames licking against hers, crackling with potential for the Guardian Bond that is a mere thought away from coming to fruition. But he'll wait, wait until Kamehime reaches out for him, welcomes him in and he'll settle there and never, ever leave. He might be a Sky himself, but that doesn't mean his secondary doesn't call for a home he cannot be. Byakuran plants his chin down atop her head, one finger wrapping the end of her ponytail back and forth around itself, other palm flat against her back.

"Ah! Who's this, Kamehime?"

Blinking, Byakuran draws back from the hug to find Yamamoto standing in the entrance hall, Mama fluttering in after him and near giggling with the sudden collection of friends her darling daughter appears to have acquired. He does suppose it looks good for Mama's chances of grandchildren; Gokudera's considered handsome in many of the universes he's seen, Yamamoto is fawned over by the locals, and Byakuran knows he's got a pretty face. Kamehime has told him often enough. Any one of them would be a catch for the resident teens. Kamehime though, is a Mafia heir. The Mafia Heir. She'll have her pick of the bunch, that's for sure.

"This is Bya-kun. He lives next-door but is home-schooled." She looks to him after that, as if waiting for him to confirm or deny her words. He choses option C; say nothing. Technically he was home-schooled… right up until he finished tearing the curriculum to chunks three months in. Now, he conducts the family business from afar, goes and messes with the local (and not so local) gangs, and winds up the resident Cloud. It's a dangerous game and Byakuran is living for it. He can't wait until Kamehime finally gets talking with Hibari; then they can stop this back and forth, cloak and dagger and finally start playing properly.

A forefinger and thumb snap up his ear, pulling him down to Kamehime's not-entirely-substantial height.

"Why do I get the feeling you're causing me more trouble somehow?"

"Me?" Byakuran gasps, dramatic, one hand to his chest as if the very accusation wounds him. Kamehime's orange eyes narrow slightly, well-founded suspicion in there but she says no more, instead letting him go to move on to her final houseguest. She greets Yamamoto with a hug, checking if he's well, all but cooing over the bruise on his face. Probably from practicing with the sword. Good. He'll need those skills soon enough.

"I would love to stay and make sure you're all fine," Mama chimes, clapping her hands together before she picks up her little basket of baked good, "but I do have book club tonight. I'm sure Kame-chan will be a good host though!"

"I learned from the best, Mama," Kamehime agrees softly, focusing all her attentions on her Mama. It's nice to see a competent Nana; more often than not, she's got some form of PTSD that bleeds from her like an open wound. This reality is so much better than the other ones he's seen. Perhaps that's just him being smug because it's his own dimension, but Byakuran doesn't care for the specifics.

.

Both he and Kamehime wave Mama off at the door, watching the woman all but skid down the road. His lovely Sky (almost his, so close he can taste the Harmony on his tongue) heads back inside, but Byakuran takes the time to signal to one of his men to follow Mama and make sure she's well taken care of.

Then, he bounces over to the table and its full spread, plucking up a plate as he goes. As would be expected, Reborn sits upon a series of cushions that just coincidentally make him an inch taller than anyone else in the room. He'd probably be sitting at the head of the table if, you know, it wasn't a round one. He wonders if Kamehime's intuition pushed for that or if it was all just by chance.

He also doesn't miss that, out of all the seats at the table, Kamehime takes one that puts Gokudera to her right. From the way the boy almost chokes on air (because he's not dared to touch anything at the table), he's noticed it too.

"You can help yourself; Mama put a lot of effort into this and it'd be poor manners on my part if you leave with anything but a full belly," Kamehime murmurs, turning that golden smile on Gokudera. Ah, the kid has no idea what he's getting himself in for. Though, she hasn't fully won him over if that suspicious glare is anything to go by.

"Slow-Sawada. I haven't heard any introductions being made."

* * *

Kamehime introduces those at the table (her potential guardians) to each other with a warm, calm cheer. He observes ever movement, carefully logs every word. Some will need to change, though her tone is more than enough for a Mafia Boss with friendly fractions meeting each other for the first time. In truth, for a civilian, he's got a fair bit to work with. Thanks to the Gesso heir, she's already aware of the Mafia, nor has she balked at the thought of taking the family other. Oh, there's been some hesitancy, but perhaps that strong intuition (not a cheat-code, he will beat that term out of her) has already alerted her to the fact that dropping out isn't an option here.

Speaking of options, the Cloud is back in town. Reborn had caught the on the surveillance cameras he'd set up around the school. Or, shall he say, had set up. The little bastard had spotted one, destroyed it with blood-splattered tonfas, and then began systematically hunting down the rest of them with a vengeance. He shall have to install more tomorrow. With Gesso as the Lightning, Yamamoto as the Rain and Gokudera hesitantly in place as the Storm, that leaves a Mist and a Sun to find. He's relatively sure Kamehime will be able to attract Hibari into her Sky, though the automatic way she's been dodging him could be an issue. Eh, one stand up nail for him to hammer down.

If he's also got a sick fascination with the idea of pushing the local Cloud towards a Cloudy Sky, well, Reborn's never met a Cloudy Sky. The only Sky he knows of with a secondary flame is Xanxus and the Nine had been careful to ensure they'd never meet. Right up until the man had dropped off the face of the planet and Reborn has no desire to go looking for the other. Not until he has Kamehime up to scratch anyway; the Ninth's fourth son could prove an interesting test (though why he's not inheriting is an enticing mystery).

Regardless, a Stormy Sky is undoubtedly a very different beast to a Cloudy Sky. Skies are rare enough; the chances of a Sky having a secondary even rarer; the only trace of a Cloudy Sky he'd been able to find during his research this afternoon had been a small time one from two hundred years ago. The man hadn't exactly been well documented; Reborn hadn't even been able to find his name.

Still, a Cloudy Sky; it's uncharted territory and Reborn is very much looking forwards to exploring. Skies are all about harmony and Clouds… well, there's a reason even those on the very outskirts of the Mafia are warned not to piss off a Cloud.

Reborn's never been one to listen to the advice of others before.

"Don't over indulge, Kamehime. You have combat training after dinner."

His latest student pauses, bowl balanced between both her hands and halfway to her mouth for draining. She blinks and he is once again reminded of her youth. There have been younger bosses, younger heirs trained for their roll. He doesn't recall any of them having eyes that appear as large as hers. If it weren't for the unnerving shade, then they'd probably look cute. The orange irises will put most off though; no one will be able to tell when she is and isn't using her flames, when they aren't boiling and frothing beneath the surface. A good intimidation fact; Iemitsu must be out of head to call her eyes pretty. Awestriking, yes. Pretty? No.

"And how will this combat training be conducted, Reborn-sensei?" He does like that; she's been quicker to pick up on the amount of respect he should be shown than Dino was. And Dino was raised in a family who told him all about the Arcobaleno from the start.

"We'll start with dodging." Otherwise known as he'll shoot at her with rubber bullets and Kamehime will learn to dodge in order to avoid the pain.

"Ohh!" Gesso suddenly pipes up, dropping his half-drunk bowl down beside his plate, broth sloshing over the rim. "Hime-chan and I can spar! It'll be just like before you rolled into town, Reborn-kun~"

Reborn shoots at him but the little bastard doesn't flinch in the slightest, allowing the bullet to scorch past his cheek and out the open window (don't want to cause Mama anymore stress than needs be, even if it very well might be Kamehime's hot-spot Cloud button).

"The fuck is the Gesso family doing in Japan anyway," Gokudera mumbles under his breath but Reborn hears him. So too does Byakuran, who goes on an increasingly long spiral about his gift of 'looking into other dimensions' and 'sharing memories with his alternate self'. The Smoking Bomb is looking progressively more and more annoyed at the other waffles on. Reborn ignores them both, turning assessing eyes on Yamamoto. The Rain looks relaxed, laughing at Gokudera who is metaphorically steaming.

And Kamehime watches it all with a smile

'_I have no idea what you mean, Reborn-sensei. The town has given me that title because I'm good to them; I've always been very good at taking care of things that are mine._'

In the very least, she has a good attitude for a boss. That's something Reborn can work with. The intuition is there, the attitude… now he just needs to see what he's working with in the fighting department. Not that it matters; he'll have her whipped into shape regardless of what level she's at. But it will be easier is she has some competency to her.

Reborn levels Leon-gun her way.

"Training begins now, Slow-Sawada."

* * *

**Ta-da!**

**Tsume**  
**xxx**


	6. Daily Life V

**Turn Turtle**

"…these are flames?"

"That sensation you can feel, licking at the edges of your conscious mind? That what is calling to you and you call to in return?"

"Yeah, those."

"They are indeed flames, Slow-Sawada."

* * *

When he opens the door, Hayato's expecting his recently acquired, grumpy landlady. He's expecting her to be demanding payment already, despite having spent the past evening hashing out with her that he needs at least a week to get his shit together. He expects a fight.

What he doesn't expect is his new boss on the other side of the threshold, the World's Greatest Hitman on one shoulder and her school bag thrown over the other.

"Jūdaime?"

It stings, calling her that. But he can't deny when he's been out logiced, nor can he find any reason to backdown out of his recently acquired position in the Vongola family. After all, it's the biggest, strongest family in the Mafia. To work for them in an honour. He's lucky Reborn-sama thought of him at all. After all, what does he have to offer other than his shady business deals as the Smoking Bomb? There are hundreds of other independent assassins out there, others that could have been selected. Sure, he's intelligent, but Hayato isn't blind. He knows he has a temper and he's far from a pleasant people person. Why on earth Reborn thought to pick him to help introduce the Sawada heir to the Mafia, he doesn't know.

But he'll take what scraps he can get. It's why he doesn't put up a fight as Sawada slips around him and strides into the apartment, inspecting it as if she's an American soccer mum freshly arrived in her holiday home and just looking for something to complain about. From the stern cast to her features, she's more than found it.

How had she even known where he lived anyway?

"This won't do. Reborn, do I have access to Vongola funds yet?"

"No, Slow-Sawada."

Sawada's lips thin, though he can tell it's more in response to the answer of her question rather than the name. After all, you can't just tell Reborn of all people to stop calling you names. One does not command Reborn, one asks and prays to every god in existence that he's willing to entertain the idea you've put forwards.

Sawada turns to him again, those unnatural orange eyes (and he has questions there; are they to do with the 'flames' he's heard whispers about during his time in Italy?) locking onto him and sizing him up. It does make him want to stand up a bit straighter, make himself appear a little taller. He squashes the instinct before he can respond to it. Her head tilts to a side before she nods, seemingly resolute, stalking around the confines of his room.

"Right. Pack your bags please, Gokudera-kun, you can stay in Mama's spare room until we can find you something more," she prods at the mysterious clump of plaster and dust with the tip of her shoe, "accommodating."

What.

"What." It's not a question that slips through his lips and it's rude as fuck; Reborn knows it too with the way his chameleon changes into a gun (UMA?!). Sawada ignores it, instead turning her eyes on him again, expression soft in a way no one has looked at him since he chose to become a street rat.

"You're officially one of mine now, Gokudera-kun. As I'm sure you are aware by now, I have a reputation in the town of being a helpful, friendly face. I look after the people in this town because it's my hometown. As you're now one of my people, that means you fall under that bracket of people I look after. In truth, helping my people is important to me. Please, let me take care of you." And she fucking dips her head. It's not a bow, nowhere near, but it's respectful and a shitload more than he's ever got off anyone else.

"I've already paid a deposit," Hayato ends up saying, holding up the fact like it's his last defence against this sudden change in behaviour. True, he'd eaten lunch with her the previous night, been exposed to the two she already claims as her inner circle. He sure as fuck doesn't understand the Sword-idiot (he'd seen the wooden one the other carried on his back; it was obvious what his favoured weapon is) but the Gesso Heir? It'd taken Hayato a moment to place him, but once he'd did, the majority of his questions had been answered. Then, the fucker had opened his mouth and waffled on about parallel universes and other shit like that. From the grumpy look that'd thundered across Reborn's face and the clam acceptance on Sawada's, it's safe to say this wasn't just a tale spun for Hayato's benefit.

"Tagara-san is the landlady here, isn't she?" Sawada muses to herself and, before Hayato can put up any kind of fight, the girl is already out the door, leaving behind the hitman who leaps off her shoulder to land on the as-of-yet unsanitary kitchenette.

"Reborn-sama, what-"

"Your boss just told you to pack your bags, Gokudera. While I am here to train Kamehime on how to become a Mafia Boss, one key skill she already seems to have well established is how she treats her own people." The gun is cocked, locked, and loaded. "Now get packing."

.

As he trudges down the stairs, pulling along a suitcase full of explosives and with a backpack of non-explosive essentials slung over his shoulders, Hayato skids to a halt at the sight that greets him in the entryway. His dragon of a landlady, the beast he'd done battle with for an entire hour yesterday, is all but simpering before Sawada.

Hayato approaches in a sort of daze, the World's Greatest Hitman walking along beside him as if the sight of the most ferocious civilian Hayato has ever met going butter soft at the slight warmth Sawada gives off is completely normal.

"-no idea he was a friend of yours."

"I think Hayato-kun didn't want to worry me when he said he had accommodations, but I'd already arranged it with Mama that he could stay with us for as long as he's in the country, which will hopefully be a year, maybe two. I'm sorry about this whole mess, Tagara-san."

"Nonsense, Kamehime-chan! All the hard work you put in to keep this neighbourhood as one of the best in Japan, how could anyone ever be mad at you?"

Unbe-fucking-lievable. What the hell is he witnessing? He'd had to spend an hour screaming at this beast of a woman to get her to give him a week to get the funds, his deposit for this shit-hole had been too large for what is it, and now here Sawada is just charming her and- and the bitch Tagara is even handing what looks like his deposit money over to her. Hayato's aware he's staring but he genuinely, honestly, cannot help it.

Even when Sawada bounces over, looping her arm through his in order to drag him along, he can do little more then stumble after her.

.

Three streets away, he recovers enough to wriggle his arm free of hers. By this point, Reborn has returned to his resting point on her shoulder, watching him with dark eyes that reflect absolutely no light at all. Sawada Kamehime stops as he frees himself, one hand wrapped around the strap of her schoolbag, the other hanging by her side. The one that'dbeen resting on his forearm until he's pulled away.

"What the hell," he seethers, one hand clenched into a fist, feeling his heart pound away beneath the cage of his ribs, the stinging prickle behind his eyes. "Why the hell are you going so far with this."

Sawada considers him for a moment and he's starting to see where that old Mafia warning about Skies and orange eyes (though what the fuck allows a person to be classified as a Sky? He only knows Sawada is one because the Gesso heir had mentioned it yesterday) comes from. He can't fucking tell if she's sizing him up for a lackey suit or if she wants to fucking eat him.

"I'm assuming, Gokudera-kun, that you're asking why I'm bothering to help you, to make sure your living arrangements are okay and, basically, why I'm sticking my nose in your business. And really, it's quite a simple answer."

She smiles and the expression shouldn't make him as warm as it does. Fuck, Reborn-sama hasn't been here long, has he? How the hell has he managed to beat that level of charisma into her already?

"If I am going to be a Mafia boss, I am going to be one whose core principle will be the idea of putting her people first. I'll try to be good, to look after everyone that I can, but the epicentre of who I am is to look after what is mine. And, by stumbling into my life like you have, with the way Reborn has all but bullied you into the Vongola family? That makes you mine. I'm not sure how other bosses run things, and I don't particularly care to learn outside of anything that could be potentially useful. My family comes first. And, it would appear that accounts for those who are blood and those who are not. Bya-kun follows me because his fucked up alternate selves have all ended up orbiting in the path of my alternate selves. Takeshi-kun follows me because I saved his life. I hope someday you'll find a more substantial reason to follow me than I was just your best opportunity to become a somebody."

* * *

Gokudera spends the rest of the night stewing in the spare room; he doesn't once emerge and Kamehime would feel so sorry for shanghaiing him into moving in with her if she weren't doing it for his own good. Tagara-san is far from a pleasant woman, that's for sure but, like everyone in Namimori, she has a soft spot for Kamehime. She's worked hard to ensure that's the case, even if she'd always completed any tasks with the full intentions of doing it to help her people.

It's a difficult thought process to balance, but Kamehime manages.

What's more important is that Gokudera is ready for their next day at school, dressed in a uniform so sloppily presented it has to be a styling choice than any unintentional effort. The amount of punk jewellery he wears is enough to get him mobbed if they walk by a concert hall. He's also holding a wrapped bento box away from his body like it's primed with explosives. Mama must have done him a packed-lunch too; she'll have to remember to thank her later.

"Good morning, Gokudera-kun," she greets, aware she's still a little red in the face from her (Reborn-enforced) morning exercise despite the shower. The teen offers her a shallow nod, one hand buried deep in his pants pocket and his eyes looking anywhere other than her. Kamehime persists.

"Did you sleep well?"

"… Yes."

"I'm glad, the last time Bya-kun weaselled his way into a sleepover, he said the spare bed was lumpy, but I'm relatively sure that's his silver-spooned, entitled princess-and-the-pea mindset shining through."

.

Their walk continues on much on the same vein, Kamehime talking and Gokudera slowly offering up one or two syllable word responses. It's only when she gets on to admitting her Italian is only rudimentary and, that for all his intellect, Byakuran make a terrible teacher, that she manages to begin coaxing the other out of his shell. They're halfway through the school gates when a cold chill drops down Kamehime's spine, as if six feet of snow had just fallen, all at once. When she lifts her eyes, it's to meet a pair of glacially cold grey, staring right at her. Her and Gokudera.

Ah. Hibari is back. And he's making his way over.

Swallowing and accepting the fact she will no long be living in a separate bubble to Hibari as she has so carefully maintained over the past decade or so, Kamehime steps forwards and left, not quite blocking Gokudera from sight (she's too small for that) but having a good go at it regardless.

Hibari stops. Cocks his head to a side. Exactly like a hawk that's spotted a rabbit in the grass. The eyes are certainly sharp enough for it, that's for sure.

"Hibari-san. Good morning." She offers up her most charming smile, the one that's won over practically all of the town. Only, Hibari is on another level completely.

She can feel him now. One night, sitting on the floor of her bedroom and feeling the tightly controlled inferno of Reborn's flames licking up against the edge of her one; that's all it's taken. The cheat-code (intuition, whatever) had kicked into high-gear, had registered the feel, the sensation, had logged it for future reference. And now, she can sense Hibari.

It's both exactly the same as Reborn and nothing alike. The same ferocity, the same potent promise of power. But, while it's locked up exactly like Reborn's had been, how it's stuffed away is completely difference. Reborn's flames had felt like the kind of dragon's warrior princes had rode in fairy-tale books; well trained, ferocious, the kind that only listens to the call of its master. Hibari's on the other hand…

Hibari's flames are like that of a feral tiger born into captivity and just a hairsbreadth of escaping. And once they're free, they're never going back.

They're breath-taking.

"Sawada," Hibari states as he finally places her, eyes narrowed as they sweep up her form, frown firmly placed on his lips. "Your herbivore is in violation of the dress code. He will be bitten to death."

The draw of the tonfas is hella fast, the kind of 'blink and you'll miss it' speed. Kamehime barely, _barely_, manages to catch the first swing. Her palms smarts with the motion but she's spent a couple of years training in hand to hand combat with Byakuran. She can hold her own.

Maybe.

There's a horrified gasp from somewhere in the crowd of people that have stopped to watch the confrontation and Kamehime meets Hibari's narrowed eyes, her own no longer the picture of wide-eyed innocence.

"I'd really appreciate it if you could let this one incident slide, Hibari-san. Gokudera-kun is new to Namimori High and I'm more that capable of informing him of the uniform policy."

"No exceptions, herbivore."

And then there's no more time to think.

.

It's ducking and weaving and blocking blows with the palm of her hand or the flat of her forearm, swinging up for high-kicks and, somewhere in the back of her mind, being thankful for the athletic shorts she wears beneath the skirt. There's no time to think, just the slight instruction from the cheatcode to react and she has to follow it instantly. Any failure to mee the nudges of instructions given to her will result in a blow that can steal her breath away, as she finds out the one moment she tries to think during the fight. Kamehime doesn't do it again.

The crowd that scream and scramble back out of the way as their fight spills over into the courtyard only register because they open up enough space for Kamehime to throw herself back and away, putting some much-needed distance between herself and Hibari. That he isn't immediately upon her means she risks lifting herself slightly from the crouch she'd landed in, tracking Hibari as he tracks her. She can hear Takeshi calling her name from the side somewhere in the crowd; judging by how his dark head of hair is progressively working its way to the front, he's probably elbowing everybody out of his way to get closer to the epicentre of violence. Gokudera's lost somewhere in the crowd, even with his fair hair and- and there's Reborn, nestled on the ledge of the second storey window with a gun trained on her.

She meets his eyes, mentally daring him to.

He does.

Because of course he fucking does.

He better be using that Mafia bullshit to make it seem like she's got clothes on; if he's thrown her into the middle of her entire school population in nothing but her underwear, she'll never rest until she'd beaten the same level of humiliation into him.

.

From there, it both blurs and comes into startlingly clear focus. The cheatcode predicts where Hibari will attack, the flames give her the speed and power to not just duck and weave, but to hit back, to give as good as she gets.

The muscles in her legs are cramping, her arms are on fire and Kamehime is relatively certain that Hibari has stripped the first layer of skin from her forearms with the amount of times he's hammered this with his tonfa. She's half-certain he's cracked two of her ribs as well.

But, Hibari doesn't look any better than her. His usually carefully combed hair is heavily ruffled, sticking up in six different directions and he's got the beginning of a beautiful black eye blossoming on one side of his face. He's still ready to go though and Kamehime-

She's not. She's done. If Hibari's gonna bite her to death now, then it's a fate she'll accept. Moving her muscles is beyond her.

Flopping down onto the floor and putting the last of her energy into landing on her back, Kamehime stares up at the sky, taking note of the lazy clouds that occupy the large blue space. There's a cirrus, she knows that much. The high, wispy one. She only remembers the name of that one because it was the nicest one to look at, the most interesting. The word nimbus comes to mind, but she's not good enough with meteorology to identify one from a glance alone.

There's a poke in her side and she tires not to groan, glancing up to meet the still standing Hibari's eyes. He's favouring his left leg. ibari

He pokes her again, this time in the shoulder and Kamehime's nose scrunches with a visual sign of her displeasure, she can feel the pull of the skin that comes with the motion. Unless Reborn if feeling up to hitting her with another one of those bullets, then she's not getting back up anytime soon.

She's in a traditional Japanese school dress; where on earth Reborn found this one, she has no idea. She's still thankful for it.

"Tch." And then he's gone in a flutter of black gakuran, disappearing from her view.

Takeshi is quick to appear in his place, Gokudera following a moment after and looking, well, odd. More importantly, Reborn sits upon Takeshi's should with a pleased little smile on his face. She must have impressed him. She'll have to remember to thank Bya-kun for his hand-to-hand training.

* * *

It bites, having to ask. If this had been three year ago, he'd have continued regardless, would never have given in. But-

_Orange flames._

Grudgingly, he rings his uncle.

"Kyoya?"

* * *

**Stay safe,**

**Tsume**  
**xxx**


End file.
